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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764105">i caught fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice'>queenhomeslice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Background Ignoct, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, fat reader, plus size reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28764105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsglaive Captain Prompto Argentum gets called out of office.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Prompto Argentum/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>I Wanna Ride My Chocoboy All Day: Prompto/Reader Stories [30]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i caught fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Sir,” says one of the newest Kingsglaive, bouncing up to Captain Argentum, hastily saluting and standing at attention.  </p><p>Prompto looks up from the paperwork at his desk—he'd always eschewed the idea of becoming a desk flunkie, one of those 9 to 5 salarymen he used to ride the subway with in high school, going to their gray corporate jobs in the skyscrapers that dotted downtown. But this, he supposes, is the price of rebuilding the world. If it’s for Noctis, Prompto would do just about—no, actually, scratch that. Prompto <em>would </em>do anything, no hesitation, like he’s done his whole life. Prompto’s fought gods and monsters for his king, and if being captain of his personal guard means he’s gotta push pencils for a few hours a day, then by Shiva’s tits, Prom’s gonna do it happily.  </p><p>“At ease,” he says, still a little unused to the formality and respect, over two years later. In his mind, he’s still the scrappy commoner kid who stumbled into Noct’s life because he just happened to rescue a magic dog. He’s not used to being 32, married, and a tried-and-true military man. He still thinks this job should belong to Cor, but Noct had insisted that the old Marshal rest a while, so Cor’s in and out of the picture; still around the Citadel, just doing a lot less fighting than he used to, because by gods he’s earned it. Prompto lowers his papers and folds his hands. “What can I do for you, bro?” </p><p>The young man visibly relaxes at Prompto’s casual moniker. He still hasn’t dropped the street-punk language he grew up speaking on the other side of the tracks from the Citadel; old habits die hard, he supposes. Besides, the sun’s only been back for a couple of years. Everyone still needs a lot of comfort and joy these days, and if Prompto can get away with being overly-familiar with his glaives, he will. He’s pretty sure Noctis called one of them “dude” last week, so there.  </p><p>“Uh, Captain Argentum, sir. Um. The <em>other </em>Captain Argentum wants to see you in the garden.” </p><p>Prompto lifts an eyebrow and nods. “Oh, uh. Well sure. I’ll be down there soon. Dismissed,” he says, with a casual wave.  </p><p>The fidgety glaive salutes again and shuffles out of Prompto’s office; the blond laughs when he hears the sigh of relief from outside the hallway. He picks up his phone and swipes at his wife’s name, typing.  </p><p><em> What’s in the garden, babe </em> </p><p>The reply is almost instant. <em>Just come down here, hot stuff </em> </p><p>Prompto snorts, but flushes anyway, because this woman has been in his life for fifteen years and she still knows how to make him squirm. He types back,<em>This had better be good lol, </em><em>Gladio’s </em><em>gonna </em><em>have my ass if I don’t finish these reports </em> </p><p><em> You’re my husband, so I get to have your ass first </em> </p><p>Prompto swallows hard and slips his phone into the pocket of this thick black pants, rising from his desk and darting out into the hallway and down to the elevator.  </p><p> </p><p>_______ </p><p> </p><p>Prompto is approaching the side door that leads out into the Citadel garden, a treasure trove that had been a major hub for scientists after the Dawn; here, they’d cultivated all of their rescued samples of Lucian, Niflheim, Tenebraen, and even Accordan flora, until the overgrowth had gotten substantial enough to transplant back into their native habitats across the world. The garden still has a few reserve samples of such plants left, but it’s mostly Lucian now, except for the grand display of sylleblossoms in Luna’s honor.  </p><p>But before he can get to the end of the hallway, an arm is reaching out for his left bicep and pulling into a nook hidden in the shadows, just one of the millions of little secret alcoves the Citadel seems to own. Prompto’s <em>promptly </em>pushed up against the wall, and he’s held there by a shorter weight, gloved chubby hands holding his upper arms with surprising strength, full lips crashing against his mouth in earnest.  </p><p> </p><p>Prompto bucks hard against his wife, moaning into her mouth as he feels her knee slide up his legs and wedge his thighs apart. She keeps it there, just a slight pressure up against his groin, but combined with the hungry way she’s devouring him—for Prompto, it’s more than enough to get him to go from zero to sixty real fuckin’ fast. He feels her hands slide down his arms, releasing them; and then feels those quick fingers fumbling with the clasps on the front of his heavy uniform coat, pushing it open, rubbing up and down his torso... </p><p>She pulls away. “Been thinking about you all day,” ___________ says, a heady mix of love and lust in her eyes.  </p><p>Prompto gulps, frozen in arousal, half-hard in his heavy pants. “Yeah?” he breathes. They haven’t seen each other for hours. She’d led the training drills today, as well as meetings about the ongoing recovery efforts out in Duscae and Leide. Prompto’s largely been tied up in bureaucratic shit, mostly at his desk, spotted with the occasional phone call to Iggy. They hadn’t fucked this morning—there'd been no time, and he’d been at the Citadel first. Prompto didn’t realize how pent up he was. </p><p>“Yeah,” his wife purrs, a sexy confidence behind her voice that had taken years to cultivate. They’re definitely not stupid pining teenagers anymore, and Prompto is ever so grateful. “C’mon baby, real quick. Lemme take care of you.”  </p><p>Prompto’s cock twitches in his pants. He <em>needs </em>this, needs her. He licks his lips and nods. “Okay.” </p><p>She grins like the devil and begins to work at his belt. His pants follow, and then his goofy chocobo-print boxers. She sinks to her knees and closes her mouth around Prompto’s length, taking half of him down all at once, and Prompto whines like the kinky little bastard that he is. He can’t even begin to worry about someone finding them. Noct won’t care, goodness knows that he and Iggy get up to all sorts of shit. They’ve totally fucked on the throne, he <em>knows </em>it.  </p><p>Prompto cards his hands through her hair and gently guides her head up and down, up and down—she's doing that thing with her tongue that she’d started doing a few months ago that has Prompto racing towards the edge like a runaway train. Her gloved hand tickles up his bare thigh to fondle his heavy sac as she sucks, and Prompto bucks <em>hard </em>into her mouth, fucking her face for several long seconds before she pulls off the tip of his leaking cock with a dirty <em>pop</em>.  </p><p>“Calm down, Captain,” she teases, looking up at him.  </p><p>Prompto exhales deeply and cracks open an eye—he’s crying already, tears pooling at the edges of his eyes. She looks damn good on her knees, in that uniform, with the nearly thigh-high boots that match his own. His underwear and pants are hanging off the edges of the boots just above his knees, jacket hanging open to reveal the patterned shirt underneath. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Uh. I love you.”  </p><p>She laughs, throat already a little raw with the effort. “I’m gonna take care of you Prom, don’t worry. Hands on my head but let me set the pace, okay?” </p><p>Prompto nods and lets his wife get back to work, moaning again when she sinks back down on his length and lets her nose touch coarse blond hair for several seconds before gliding back out to the halfway mark, getting into a gentle rhythm. He closes his eyes and sets his hands on her head but doesn’t move her, just stands there on wobbly knees and lets the mounting pleasure overwhelm him.  </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t realize her hands are groping at his ass until he feels her bare finger—when did she take off her gloves?-- prodding between his cheeks and teasing his furled hole. Prompto keens loud under her ministrations, sniffing hard as he shakes. The one slicked finger—with spit lube, he doesn’t care—pushes into him so easily, Prompto wonders if she’s using a fire spell to make him as burning hot as he is right now. She pokes around, enough to send sparks down to his throbbing cock in her mouth, but not enough to push against his prostate.  </p><p>One finger swiftly becomes two, however, and Prompto cants his hips forward so she can angle her wrist—<em> there, </em>and he wonders if his moans can be heard in the throne room somewhere above him. She pulls off to the tip of his cock, bids Prompto to angle himself further out, and then gets back to work, finding a gentle rhythm of pushing him away from the warm, wet heaven of her mouth and back onto her perfectly-positioned fingers.  </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, fuck, <em>baby</em>...” Prompto feels his thighs quiver as two of those lovely fingers become three, and Prompto screams loud, the pounding of blood in his ears muffling the echoes reverberating in his head. He feels her dig her fingers as far into his ass as she can reach, rubbing and prodding at his prostate—she swallows his cock to the base again, nose tickling his pubic hair, and Prompto’s jaw falls open in a wordless cry as he comes thick and hot into his wife’s mouth.  </p><p>She stays still, gulping down everything that Prompto has to give, and boy howdy is it a <em>lot</em>. He comes for what feels like an hour (though it's actually only a couple of minutes), her fingers deep in his ass having him writhing and crying as he spills, lean scarred hips stuttering fast as she milks him for all he’s worth.  </p><p> </p><p>Eventually she pulls away, leaving him empty in the back and soft and sticky in the front—only his honed strength of the last decade is allowing him to stand. He braces himself against the wall and knocks his head back against ancient concrete, suddenly incredibly cold from the waist-down.  </p><p>“You good?” his wife rasps, and Prompto’s eyes flutter open, instinctively searching for the source of his joy.  </p><p>“Good,” Prompto echoes, laughing breathlessly. “Good, she says, as if she just didn’t suck my soul and five years of life out of my dick.” </p><p>__________ snorts and grabs Prompto’s shorts, dressing him; she drags his pants up too, along with his belt, and even snaps his jacket closed. Captain Argentum looks as immaculate as he did before their little tryst, and as far as he can tell, the hallway is still void of any witnesses.  </p><p>She stands and crashes into him, holding him up against the wall with her weight, because Prompto feels his legs <em>actually </em>give out, and he slumps low over her shoulder.</p><p>“Whoa there, Cap,” she says lovingly, petting his sweaty hair.  </p><p>“That was amazing,” Prompto slurs, “and now I need to sleep for a hundred years.” </p><p>His wife laughs. “Well, we could steal to the garden and I could ride your face in the gazebo? You’ll at least be lying down.” </p><p> </p><p>Prompto jolts to life, standing up and pulling at her wrist. “Sounds good to me.”  </p>
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